


Leaves

by whisperbird



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:17:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperbird/pseuds/whisperbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi overhears a conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> [This isn't beta'd but I attempted to edit as best I can at 1 am.](http://www.reactiongifs.us/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/i_tried.gif)

Levi has only ten minutes to get there, walk upstairs to a room overlooking the yard, for a meeting. But he knows if he doesn’t stop now once he’s caught sight, it’ll only be worse later for everyone involved. He’ll be angrier and nothing will have been done in the interim, which will make him even angrier. Erwin will understand, only for Levi, if he’s late but setting order only a takes a moment if done right.

When Levi reaches the pair of them, the argument hasn’t reached above shouting. It’s around a hissing level, and reminds him of couples he sees in the towns’ shops, comfortable enough to argue in public but keeping a sense of propriety, anger flashing in hushed, barely audible tones. He knows it would absolutely gall them to hear that their behavior in any way befit a couple and it would amuse him if he wasn’t annoyed.

There’s a shred of sympathy within him. It’s a fine, bright October day, just after noon and the air is cool, the sun warm. Leaves swirl with drama across the courtyard, skittering in the breeze. They’re both the youngest members of his squad and if any day was made for slacking off, it’s today.

A shred of sympathy, however; not a heart full enough of it to care. Levi has things to do and wouldn’t need to be here if they took seriously the things they had to do.

The juxtaposition of Oluo’s expression with the fact that he had several inches on Levi would be amusing too, but wasn’t, owing to Levi’s annoyance as well. At least Petra’s short stature and cower work better, gazing up at Levi with guilty and terrified eyes. It’s not quite as funny as being gazed down upon.

If Levi were the sort of fellow who laughed at things like this, he would.

A cool, “hey” is all it takes to divert their attention and they both snap to, like a pair of children caught arguing over a toy. There’s no anger in his voice, but Levi’s lips are a hard line.

“Why are neither of you cleaning?” He nods towards the wall, where a forgotten push broom and mop sit neatly, unused, like a smoking gun of truancy. “I thought I told the two of you to stop arguing too.”

It takes a second before Petra straightens up, giving a sidelong and withering squint at Oluo, who closes his mouth.

“I’m sorry captain, we were just about to start. We won’t do this again!” The sincerity isn’t lost on Levi, but then Oluo moistens his lips as though he’s about to speak and Petra fixes him with another withering look, this time hardened to a glare.

“Ask him,” Oluo says and smirks at the sight of Petra’s cheeks turning pink.

“I … no,” she stammers, looking back at Oluo in an attempt to escape Levi’s eyes. Levi tries to keep his expression neutral, waiting for them to unravel it and eventually hang themselves by their own rope. He knows they can read judgment, intended or not, on every inch of his face.

“You started it, so, I don’t see why n—“

“Started it? Are you a child?” Petra’s face grows steadily pinker. “Don’t answer that like it’s not the truth!”

“You started arguing with me, so that starts it.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“You’re the one arguing with an idiot!”

There is a pause, in which both of them realize what Oluo’s just said and also the presence of their captain, watching them with his remarked composure.

“He admits he’s an idiot,” Petra begins, turning back to Levi but he cuts her short with a curt hand-wave.

“What were you going to ask me?”

An inhale. “Okay, ah … sir.” A long exhale.

Petra begins, determined.

“We were talking about something, and Oluo’s a big gossip. He said someone else said that you …weren’t a cadet before you joined the survey corps.”

“So quick to sell me out,” Oluo mutters, Petra choosing to ignore it, pressing on.

“And I said it was impossible, right? Where else do people learn 3D Maneuver Gear?”

Her smile falters. “Right?”

Levi sighs and feels more and more like a parent engaged in breaking up a fight between two children, especially since he turns to Oluo and hears himself ask, “And what did you say?”

“Rumors.”

“Rumors?”

“That’s why I defended you, captain,” Petra says quietly. “He was repeating rumors.”

The silence stretches for a very long, meandering minute, every bit of their apprehension felt in the anticipation of Levi’s next words. He’s aware of the awkward silence, and lets them stew in it. It’s more a fitting punishment than a lecture, their own doubt and guilt worse than anything he could say. Levi hasn’t got all day and he knows he could leave it at this, watching Oluo’s fingers drum on his side of his thigh and Petra’s hand clench and unclench nervously as they sweat the burden of blame.

He hasn’t got all day, but that’s enough time and he addresses both of them with no preamble.

“They found me,” Levi says, and quietly, barely heard above the rustle of leaves stirred in a new wind. “On the 48th recon mission.”

Their nervous tics still.

“They found me inside of a bush, and I hatched from a big-ass golden egg, already grown and with blades on my swords. I stood up and walked over to Commander Erwin and told him the same thing I’m about to tell you.”

Levi leans in a bit, prompting the two of them to follow suite and they do, each holding their breath.

“I told him, you get stupid answers when you’re arguing like the kids I hoped you weren’t instead of doing the work I told you to do, and if you don’t do by sunset, dinner is going to be _up to your imagination_ because if this shit isn’t done, you’re not _getting_ any damn dinner.”

They move faster than Levi has ever seen, outside of beautifully coordinated moves killing titans, and after a scuffle over the broom, attack the new enemy, leaves settled around the courtyard. He waits until they’ve both gotten sufficiently to work before he walks away.

Barely a few steps out of earshot he hears Petra whisper, “You made him mad! Aren’t you the least bit respectful?” The broom swishes. “Or, y’know since it’s you, scared?”

“I didn’t say I thought him being a thug before was a bad thing,” Oluo mumbles.

Levi slows his walking a few yards away, giving them the impression he heard them and will walk back. He hears hissing and shoving and comes to a full stop, waiting a few beats to move again. They go back to their sweeping silently, confident he didn’t hear them.

Oluo was a liar, no one would ever do anything if it weren’t for fear of Levi. Or at least would never do anything right.

The precognition of job failure that Levi innately possesses was the only reason he turns right and hangs around the stables for a moment. It’s damp and smells of hay and horse shit, so the shorter time spent here the better. A few feet and a thin wall are all that separates the two of them from him. He doesn’t like to hover but their slacking is a begging invitation to supervision. Levi tells himself five minutes, and if in five minutes they’re still cleaning as they know full well he’s gone, he will go about his business and allow them to gamble with their own lives if it’s not done completely and correctly by the time he gets back.

He could put the two of them on different tasks today, but they’re soldiers, not children and Levi knows as much as they should the difference between what that entails. Woe betide them if they slack again in the next five minutes, since he was likely to walk around the corner and kill them both with their own cleaning materials, sacrifices of soldiers (and valuable housework supplies) made for the greater good of humanity and Levi’s temper.

Levi kicks a bit of mud from his boot, hoping it’s mud and tries to not breathe too deeply.

“Why’d you say it like that earlier if you don’t think it’s a bad thing?” Petra mumbles. The sound of their movements and leaf eradication still fill the air, so Levi doesn’t make moves.

“Eh, I don’t know. It just makes me think.”

“About what?”

“If he was criminal and was so damned good at it that the commander wanted him to join, why’d he pick this?”

Levi stands still in his listening place, back pressed against the cool wooden wall.  


“Wouldn’t you?” Petra says this with a sigh, but she sounds more curious than exasperated.

“Hell yeah I would! It was my own decision to join the military in the first place!”

“Why’d you join the scouting legion?”

“Same reason as you,” says Oluo. “I guess. Why did any of us? We wanted to change shit, huh?”

“Exactly,” Petra replies and pauses. “Why would that be any different for the captain?”

Levi hasn’t stirred, the only movement his chest as he breathes shallowly. It surprises him, but he wants to hear how this goes. He knows it doesn’t make a difference to him what either of them say and he’s absolutely never cared about being likeable, even if there was a chance he could be. He finds it amusing, some and a great deal more bewildering, the tone they’re discussing him in. It’s reverential. And it’s also the most civil he’s heard either of them, this awkward common ground of hero worship. It’s a tone he’s heard before.

“It wouldn’t. But he does all this crap and became a soldier. Did he have to? I don’t know.”

“That’s what makes him really brave.”

Oluo is quick to agree.

“It does. It really does!” He sounds serious and a little passionate. “It makes him brave.”

It’s quiet again and Oluo snorts. “See, that’s what made me mad when you asked me if I could be respectful.”

It’s been six minutes, so Levi walks away, and to inside where he’s been late to a meeting for only a bit now. Worship and praise are so exceedingly awkward and make Levi think and consider things that make him uncomfortable. His ability to collect friends and collect admirers and to stir a crowd through a sincere but incoherent speech has always eluded him.  He does all he knows how, and all he’s good at and people orbit him and assign sanctity to his survival.

It’s been fear, people have feared him, but it’s also respect and always has been respect. He’s continually been one myth or unbelievable reality or another, without his own consent or knowledge, whether he lived up to it or was aware of it or not.

That’s how people end up dying for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is one down of five fics I've had in progress for SNK since, uh, like May. I have a few more I've posted on Tumblr but I never finish anything these days. Will I even finish this senten--


End file.
